Blood & Honey

With a snarl, he signaled to his men, but I jerked my hand upward before they could reach us. Shards of ice spiked up behind him, around him, until we stood in a circle of jagged icicles. Trapped, he shouted panicked orders—eyes darting, searching for a gap—while the Chasseurs hit and hacked at the ice.

“Cut it down!”

“Captain!”

“Get him out—”

One of the icicles shattered, raining ice on our heads. Capitalizing on the distraction, I lunged, slicing Jean Luc’s sword hand. He cried out but kept hold of his Balisarda. His other hand seized my wrist, twisting, and that—well, that just wouldn’t do.

I spat directly in his eye.

Rearing back, he loosened his hold on me, and I dug my fingers into his wound, pulling and tearing the skin there. He roared with pain. “You bitch—”

“Oh dear.” I flipped his Balisarda into my hand, the ice sword poised at his throat. Then I laughed. Laughed and laughed until Coco, Ansel, and Beau joined the Chasseurs in beating against the ice. Lou Lou Lou came their anxious cries, reverberating around me. Through me. The moon reflected in Jean Luc’s wide eyes. He backed away slowly. “It seems you’ve misplaced something, Captain.” I hurled the ice sword into the icicle by his head before raising my free hand. “This is going to be fun.”



Sanctuary



Reid



“His—his name?”

Blaise bared his teeth, the first flicker of emotion flashing through his eyes. Blood dripped down his hand. “My son. Do you even know his name?”

I unsheathed a second blade, shame congealing in my gut. Though he made no further move to attack, I would not be caught unaware. “No.”

“Adrien.” He said the word on a whisper. Reverential. “His name was Adrien. My eldest son. I still remember the moment I first held him in my arms.” He paused. “Do you have children, Captain Diggory?”

Distinctly uncomfortable now, I shook my head. Gripped my knives tighter.

“I thought not.” He stepped closer. I stepped back. “Most loup garou mate with progeny in mind. We cherish our pups. They are everything.” Another pause, longer this time. “My mate and I were no different, but we were incapable of reproduction. He came from a pack across the sea.” Another step. We stood nearly nose to nose now. “When your brethren slew Adrien’s biological parents, we adopted him as our own. When you slew Adrien, my mate took his own life.” His eyes—once unbearably soft, lost in memory—now hardened. “He never met Liana or Terrance. He would’ve loved them. They deserved his love.”

Self-loathing burned up my throat. I opened my mouth to say something—to say anything—but closed it just as quickly, fighting the urge to vomit. No words could ever erase what I’d done to him. What I’d taken.

“So you see,” Blaise said, voice rough with emotion, “you owe me blood.”

I still couldn’t speak. When he began to shift once more, however, I choked, “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Nor I you,” he growled, bones shuddering, “but fight we shall.”

He’d just fallen back to all fours when the temperature plummeted, and ice—ice—shot across the ground beneath us. Stumbling, I stared as it devoured the path ahead, engulfing each tree and ravaging each leaf. Each needle. When it reached the tip of the tallest branches, it burst into a cloud of white, showering us with snow that stank of magic. Of rage. Blaise yelped in surprise and lost his footing.

Horror gripped my heart in a fist.

What had Lou done?

“Powerful—isn’t she?” Blaise’s body continued to snap and twist, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. His teeth glinting. “Her mother’s daughter, after all.”

A piercing howl erupted over the trees then. Higher than the others. Anguished. Blaise’s head snapped up, and he gave a panicked whine. “Terrance.” The word was garbled, barely discernible through his maw. He bolted without finishing his transition.

Lou.

Knives in hand, I hurried after him, slipping and sliding on the ice. It didn’t matter. I didn’t stop. Neither did Blaise. When we finally burst through the trees at the edge of the loup garou territory, I lurched to a halt at the sight before me.

A handful of Chasseurs hung midair, revolving slowly—necks taut, muscles seizing—while even more loup garou struggled to free themselves from the ice trapping their paws. Their legs. The Chasseurs and wolves who weren’t debilitated hacked at one another with steel and teeth. When the bodies shifted—revealing a slight, pale-haired figure in the center of a shattered ice cage—my heart dropped like a stone.

Lou.

Eyes hollow, smile cold, she contorted her fingers like a maestro. Coco shouted beside her, tugging fruitlessly on her arms, while Beau and Ansel tried their best to defend them. Tears spilled down Ansel’s cheeks. Blaise lunged forward with a snarl. I tackled him from behind, wrapping my arms around his ribs, and we rolled.

“Lou!” My shout made Lou pause. Made her turn. My blood ran cold at her grin. “Lou, stop!”

“I know I lost your Balisarda, Reid,” she called, her voice sickeningly sweet, “but I found you a new one.”

She lifted a bloody Balisarda into the air.

Jean Luc—I did a double take—Jean Luc dove at her.

“Watch out!” I cried, and she spun gracefully, lifting him with the sweep of her hand. He landed hard on a shard of ice, nearly impaling himself. Realization dawned swift and brutal.

She’d taken his Balisarda.

Spotting his father, Terrance whined and tried to drag himself toward us. Half of his body looked—limp. The angles wrong. Distorted. Blaise thrashed in my arms, twisting around to bite the wound on my arm, and I dropped him. He shot forward like a flash, gripping Terrance’s ruff between his teeth and dragging him to safety.

I dodged around a Chasseur, sprinting toward Lou. When I took her in my arms, she cackled. And the look in her eyes . . . I squeezed her tighter. “What is this?”

“She has to melt the ice!” Coco cried, now locked in battle with Jean Luc. He fought viciously despite his injuries—or perhaps because of them. Within seconds, I realized he didn’t just want to hurt Coco. He wanted to kill her. “She won’t listen to—” She ducked as he swung a piece of ice savagely, but it still caught her chest. Her words ended in a gasp.

Bewildered, still horrified—torn between helping Coco or Lou—I took Lou’s face in my hands. “Hello, you,” she breathed, leaning into my embrace. Her eyes were still horribly empty. “Did the ice save you?”

“Yes, it did,” I lied quickly, “but now you need to melt it. Can you do that for me? Can you melt the ice?”

She tilted her head, and confusion stirred within those lifeless eyes. I held my breath. “Of course.” She blinked. “I’ll do anything for the ones I love, Reid. You know that.”

The words, spoken so simply, sent a chill down my spine. Yes, I did know that. I knew she would freeze to death to put breath in my lungs, twist up her very memory to give my body heat.

I knew she would sacrifice her warmth—her humanity—to protect me from loup garou.

“Melt the ice, Lou,” I said. “Do it now.”

Nodding, she sank to her knees. When she pressed her hands against the ground, I moved to defend her back. Punched a Chasseur who came too close. Prayed the pattern was reversible. That it wasn’t too late.

The world seemed to still as Lou closed her eyes, and warmth pulsed outward in a wave. The ground melted to mud beneath her fingers. The suspended Chasseurs drifted back to their feet, and the trapped werewolves licked their newly freed paws. I prayed. I prayed and prayed and prayed.

Bring her back. Please.

Seek us.

When she rose, shaking her head, I crushed her in my arms. “Lou.”

“What—” She leaned back, eyes widening at the carnage around us. The Chasseurs and werewolves watched her warily, unsure how to proceed without orders. No one appeared eager to approach her again. Not even those with Balisardas. Jean Luc’s hung limp at Lou’s side. “What happened?”

“You saved us,” Coco said firmly. Though she swayed on her feet—face ashen, shirt bloody—she still looked better than Jean Luc. He’d collapsed, panting, at her boots. When he struggled to rise, she kicked him in the face. “And you will never . . . ever do it again. Do you hear me? I don’t care if Reid is . . . bound and gagged . . . at the stake—” She broke off with a wince, applying pressure to her wound.

Lou sprang forward just in time, and Coco collapsed in her arms.

“I’m fine,” Coco said, voice faint. “It’ll heal. Don’t use your magic.”

“You stupid—bitches.” Clutching his nose, Jean Luc crawled toward them. Blood poured through his fingers. “I’m going to cut you both to pieces. Give it back to me. Give me back my Balisarda—”

“Enough.” Blaise’s deep, terrible voice preceded him into view, and the werewolves shifted anxiously. In his arms, he held Terrance. Sweat coated the boy’s brow, and his breathing came quick. Labored. He’d shifted back. In this form, it was clear his entire right side had collapsed. A brown wolf near Ansel yelped sharply. After the telltale crack of bones, Liana raced forward. Though I averted my eyes from her naked skin, I couldn’t ignore her cries.

“Terrance! No, no, no. Mother moon, please. Terrance.”

Blaise’s yellow eyes flashed from the Chasseurs to Lou. “Who did this?”